Abandon hope all ye who enter here
by your-biohazardous-friend
Summary: that one council member performs his experiments not only on the blue tazelwurms. Story contains some spoilers to season 3!
1. I

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Detentionaire – teleTOON does.

**Warnings:** **SPOILERS** to season **3**, gruesome images, violence, blood, unethical surgical practises (vivisection)

**A/N1:** inspired by a story _Conspiracy_ by _CreativeImaginator_

**A/N2:** the story about a man waking up in a bathtub filled with ice and having a phone and a note to call 911 in his reach is a classical setting of an urban legend about kidney thieves.

**A/N3:** _"Abandon hope all ye who enter here" _- The supposed inscription at the entrance to Hell from _Divine Komedy __by _Dante Alighieri

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_"oh, ja, surgery is often, sometimes too… bloody" – Lee Ping/ Detentionaire episode 33_

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He woke up in a bathtub full of ice cubes, the only thing which was missing was a phone and a note to _'call 911 or else you will die'_. Lee tried to steady his breathing, having a panic attack was not a good way to start plotting an escape plan.

He had so little time before drugs lessen their affect and he got back.

Lee tried to move, but avoid seeing multiply stitches showing from under filthy, bloodied dressings. He knew, he felt, that they were just some temporary solution. Making just a bit more rapid movement or straining the skin tissue a little bit too much could make it all snap. The detentionaire did his best to block a vision of his own guts spilling all over the floor.

He needed to, no, he had to escape. Within several minutes, the story would be repeated. He would once again be placed on that stony table in some sort of ancient dead-house, with moss and mold all around the walls and ceiling. They would strain him down with the leather straps. He would see, smell and feel everything that the fatty council member would be doing to him with rusty tools, crappy lights and no medical equipment whatsoever, except few PVCs delivering shady drips into his bloodstream and keeping him awake for hours to no end.

Lee was snapped back from his oblivion with the creak of the doors. He stilled as a man entered. It wasn't the fat psycho but a council member that Lee had never seen before. Or, more likely, that he saw him everyday in the mirror. Was Lee that out of his mind to see himself within his captor's face?

#2, as Lee immediately nicknamed the young Asian, leaned toward him and whispered something into his ear – it wasn't English nor Korean - it sounded like some secret code, he might once created with his sibling so his mother wouldn't understand what he talking about. But he wasn't his brother – he didn't have the key-code to understand. Or did he? Lee tried to focus, there was something familiar in how the vowels sounded, how the syllables were forming a smooth rhythm. It calmed him a little, it was solid puzzle he could work on. A task with visible and reachable goal.

#2 disappeared in the shadows as the fatty council member entered the room. He was now towering above Lee with swarm of Cleaners on both of his sides. The robots lifted the kid and moved him to other room, where Lee was once again strapped and hooked to the drips. Despite too strong light and tears welling his eyes, Lee could see that the man was smiling. The smile was a little bit like Lynch's – one of those crazy, insane, totally bonkers and out of his mind kind. His small, button-like, black eyes were glimmering evilly from under the protective glasses dotted with dry blood. It took Lee's clogged mind a while to connect the bloody dots. Why they were doing it to him? What was in those several drips in his right arm? since obviously there was no painkiller among them. And what about the lilting message of #2? Was that man his ally? Did the message really meant anything? Was it a way of escape? Or just made up hope to keep Lee's mind focused for any reason the council had?

With the corner of the eye the detentionaire saw an angle grinder. The steady movement of it's cutting disc was mesmerizing, an angry buzz of the machine was like a white noise to Lee's mind.

The grinder lowered and all Lee could feel was the overwhelming pain and smell of burning flesh and bones. He howled in agony as the tools and fatso's hands were digging into his flesh, poking, probing, stirring his insides, taking some bits then showing them back inside. The man took special interest to his left arm – the one with tattoo – which was currently being cut into pieces.

It was all done in search for answers. What were the questions, Lee could only guess.

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comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always **welcomed **and **appreciated**!


	2. II

**Disclaimer:** Nelvana/Teletoon/ABC3 - they own detentionaire, not me! I just fool around for both free and your amusement.

**Warnings:** spoilers to season **3 **and possibly also for **__****Space Zombie Flu **franchise, gruesome images, kidnapping/slavery themes, mentioned thoughts of suicide, violence, blood, unethical surgical practises

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"_This kid surrendered  
And left to his own  
_Well done!_ He was a brave young boy  
But was nothing else, nothing else but a _toy_"-_

_-Czeslaw Mozil/„Pożegnanie małego wojownika"(„Farewell to a little solider")_

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Lee had no strength to fight. The pain was never ending and, as far as Lee knew, the council had checked everything - every fiber in his body, every cell. They skinned his arm at the level of his tattoo, leaving just a patch of exposed muscle tissue, inflamed and seeping of puss and blood.

He wasn't shouting anymore, just small whimpers escaped his chapped lips every now and then when he felt more discomfort than usual. There was something feral about his behaviour as he lay on the 'operating table', as if his consciousness shut down, leaving just primitive impulses and habits. With every procedure Lee was less and less useful for the fat council member or #2. However they didn't let him go nor discarded him. So maybe there still were places in his body which the council didn't temper with yet? That must be the case, because no questions had been answered.

Not a single one.

No one would come to rescue him. Lee was sure now. At first he had hope - when pain was fresh and new. When he still didn't believe that it was happening to him. He dreamt of coming back home and passing by 'missing' posters with his photo pinned to every electric pole in town, his mother crying of joy, even Barrage rants would be a little bit less intimidating than usual, maybe he would even dismiss him earlier from detention, glad Lee was safe and sound? Then, as the time dragged by, his dreams transformed into a fear of being buried alive, his mouth full of black dirt, his eyes itching of dust, the oxygen drastically running out with every second. At times Lee would force his bloodshot eyes to open, sometimes emitting any form of sound to ensure himself that _they_ know he's still alive. Even thought he was more like a living dead - Like the main character from _Space Zombie Flu_, who fought to the last page, to the last sentence, just to get infected by the last, stray zombie remaining. Ah, here it was again, his infamous train of thoughts, fueled by fever, exhaustion and pain.

For him the times of makeshift rest and operations melted together into one timeless pulp. When he heard a buzzing sound next to his ear, Lee couldn't decide if it's a mosquito or a drill. Did it really matter? If it's a misquito, then well, it's not as if there was much blood left in his veins to feed from. If it's drill, it's more worrisome, but it's not as if that tool wasn't used on him already.

Even though Lee abandoned the plan to escape he was still somehow, desperate like a drowning man desperately fighting surrounding him waves to reach a straw. If he had a gun and enough strength to lift it, he would, just as the _Space Zombie Flu_ protagonist, put a bullet in his head. #2 even made that kind of offer - in that melodic code-language of his. But when that suggestion was presented to the ex-detentionaire, he still had strength and hope of survival – so he refused. Oh how stupid it was of him! The buzzing was more distinctive – it was a drill, no doubt about it now - moving closer and closer to his ear. It was now the only sound Lee could hear.

The noise stopped abruptly. Why his whole world turned silent? Did something damaged his hearing? Or his mind just spared him the drama? And why the silhouette bending over him looked like Tina? was he dreaming about her again or was his whole life flashing in front of his eyes?

It didn't feel like dying thought, but, just as with love, he would never know for sure how it felt unless…

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comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always **welcomed **and **appreciated**!


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